


The King's Bastard Son

by AltruisticSkittles



Series: Bad Things Happen Bingo [1]
Category: Sanders Sides
Genre: Ambiguous/Open Ending, Bad Things Happen Bingo, Gen, Imprisonment, Rebel AU, Royalty AU, Self depreciation, Sort Of, Threats of Death, Verbal bullying, being disowned by a parent, blood mention, injury mention, it's all my fault, mentioned Morality | Patton Sanders, no sides are unsympathetic
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-10-03
Updated: 2020-10-03
Packaged: 2021-03-07 21:46:52
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,374
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26794600
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/AltruisticSkittles/pseuds/AltruisticSkittles
Summary: After being locked in a room, Virgil is taunted by a tactless guard about siding with rebels. All Virgil can do is say, "It's all my fault."
Series: Bad Things Happen Bingo [1]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1953967
Comments: 9
Kudos: 64





	The King's Bastard Son

Virgil slammed his shoulder into the door one last time. Pain shot through his arm. He yelped and rolled his back onto the door. His left hand cradled his right shoulder, and he massaged the tender tissue underneath his torn shirt. Thankfully, his collarbone didn’t feel wrong, meaning his shoulder wasn’t displaced, but it still hurt like hell, especially on top of the other injuries he already had.

This had to be what hell was like, actually.

Virgil slid down the door, and a mumbled curse fell from his lips. He let his chin sag against his chest and took deep, uneven breaths. He squeezed his eyes shut. The freezing air choked him. He blinked his eyes rapidly as they stung, but he was too helpless to stop the tears from sliding down his cheeks.

“Damn it,” he mumbled as he pressed his palms into his eyes. He took a shuddering breath in and swallowed thickly. 

For a while, the only sound in the room was Virgil giving way to the sorrow spilling all over his face. His body shivered from the cold. Every bruise, every ache, every cut and burn and injury he sustained before being imprisoned, tormented him. Eventually, that too died down into a quiet numbness, and he let a long breath release from his lungs.

He didn’t care if he replaced it at this point.

For what felt like hours, Virgil stayed in the same spot he landed in, too tired to move farther than he was. He took one last glance around the small space, searching for anything to help him escape. Anything. It could be a loose bar on the window. It could be a brick not quite glued in place. It could be a goddamn crack on the floor that he could pick at until his fingers bled and he could slip through. 

However, his brain kept reminding him how hopeless it all was, how he wouldn’t find a way out, how this was his punishment, how he didn’t deserve to be the hero anyway after what he’d done.

“God, I’m so sorry,” Virgil mumbled to no one as he let his head thunk against the door. He stared up at the ceiling, praying to a deity he didn’t believe in that the person he needed to hear that most would. “It’s all my fault. If I didn’t freeze-”

Footsteps outside Virgil’s door stopped his words. They started at the end of the hall, slow, calculating, barely audible, but eventually, they passed Virgil’s door and continued on their way. 

Virgil let go of the tension in his chest. He gave up begging for his life to be taken instead hours ago. They just laughed at him. Some taunted him. Others apologized and said there was nothing they could do.

To Virgil’s surprise, the footsteps started to come back. He held his breath again. They didn’t sound like the trained steps of a soldier, but he also recognized the unmistakable sound of the soldier’s wooden heels hitting the stone floor.

“Well,” a deep voice spoke from outside, one Virgil didn’t recognize at all, “how the mighty have fallen.”

“Suck it,” Virgil grumbled back.

A cruel laugh followed. Their lips smacked together in a mock sympathetic way, “It’s a shame your father is too much of a coward to kill you. but at least that rebel trash will get what’s coming to him.”

Virgil swallowed hard. He wanted to lash out, to hurt, to make that person never speak about him that way again, but he knew any effort would be wasted. Maybe if he was quiet, this person would leave him alone. Maybe he’d show Virgil some form of mercy. Maybe he’d get bored and go torment someone else.

Maybe Virgil was too optimistic, but the person continued to taunt him.

They spoke, “Oh come on. You can’t possibly think these radicals are worth saving. They’re challenging the crown, and that means, they’re challenging you. They don’t care about you. In fact, I’m sure they’d still kill you if they happen to somehow win this little pathetic revolution they’ve created. They don’t care about anything but furthering their own agenda. They’re spineless, entitled brats who can’t work for what they want, so they have to tear down everyone else to their level.”

“Don’t talk about them like that,” Virgil growled.

“Oh?” the voice said with a humorless laugh. “And why shouldn’t I?”

“Because those people are ten times more decent than we’ll ever be.”

The outburst silenced the person not for the first time, but it did bring a swell of pride to Virgil’s chest. He didn’t know if it was because he found the courage to talk back to the soldier or because he protected those he’d grown close to over the past year and a half gave him a burst of energy.

Eventually, the person replied, “And why’s that?”

“What does it matter?”

“Just answer the damn question.”

The voice changed. It sounded way too familiar, like something he’d heard in a dream. Virgil shifted so he stared at the crack under the door. He could see the telltale boots of the guard outside, but he couldn’t see who was attached to them. 

Virgil laid on the floor and stared at the ceiling. He snuffed through his nose and answered at last, “Because they care about the people of this country, and not just the ones who can do things for them. They’re teachers, they’re healers, they’re inspiring, they’re understanding, and they never once hurt me, even though I’m the king’s son.”

“So, even after you got one of their leaders captured, you still think they’d show mercy to you?”

Virgil’s mind thought to one person in particular as he answered, “Actually, yeah.”

“And you’re willing to bet your life on that?”

“I mean, what else do I got to lose? The king’s got a boat to a deserted island in the middle of nowhere with my name on it, so in a few hours, it won’t matter anyway.”

The sound of metal clinking furrowed Virgil’s brow. He heard the telltale click of a lock, and he scrambled to his feet. He backed up against the stone wall, teeth bared and eyes narrowed. The door opened, and Virgil squinted to protect his vision from the sharp light.

“I’m so sorry, Virgil, but it looks like you’re going to miss that boat.”

Virgil’s eyes blinked until they were wide open. The fire silhouetted the familiar guard’s uniform, but he knew by the illuminated eyes that was very much not the case.

“Janus, you asshole,” Virgil snarled.

“I come and save your ass, and that’s the thanks I get?”

“You pretend to be a palace guard and taunt me, and you expect me not to get upset?”

Janus shrugged. “I had to make sure you were still on our side after everything that happened. And I figured, if you had nothing to lose, you’d eventually admit your true feelings.”

“Where’s Patton? Did you find him yet?” Virgil asked.

Janus’s smug grin slipped away, and he let a long sigh out through his nose. “We’re working on it.”

“And you thought the ex-crown prince was going to be able to help?” Virgil said with a brow. “The king already told all the guards I’m a traitor. They know not to trust me.”

“But surely some of them are still loyal to you. I mean, you proved loyalty transcends duty the minute you sided with a bunch of traitors.”

Virgil walked toward the door and stood face to face with Janus. He could see the sweat dripping from Janus’s brow, even if Janus hid his fatigue well. The slight smell of blood caught Virgil’s attention, but he couldn’t find any wounds on Janus at the moment.

Virgil questioned, “So, are we just going to stand here until they kill him, or are we going to do something about it?”

“I thought you’d never ask.”

The two men hurried down the corridor, the light in Janus’s hand making the shadows move just as fast. Virgil chewed on his lips before he broke the silence.

“So, is Roman pissed?”

“Actually, I think it’s Remus you should probably be more afraid of.”

“Great.”

**Author's Note:**

> Thank you for reading! I'm totally cool with just heart comments, so don't worry if you have nothing to say! I'm thankful you even made it this far. If you'd like to keep up with me and my other works, you can find me on Tumblr @ altruistic-skittles
> 
> -Cat


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